2:04 a.m. - 01.03.2003
I love you, Josh.
My boyfriend is sick. And I'm taking care of him.
I went to pick him up, and he wasn't there. But when I went back to his house to see if he was there, I saw him go in.
I come in to bitch him out about not being there when I came to pick him up. And he's holding his stomach laying on the bed groaning.
But I've been here for about 12 hours now. Taking care of my man.
I went out to get some pepto and some ginger ale for him. And a frozen pizza and some soda for me and his friend Josh. Then, I went to get him some grape juice and something else he needed.
Even though it wasn't like completely fun because he's all queasy and puking and stuff. And there wasn't really too much french kissing going on at all.
But it was nice because I felt like he needed me. His mom was supposed to come home, but hasn't yet. It just felt really good to take care of him.
My boyfriend laying on the bed.
Me by his side.
Him. Making jokes.
Sounding like a five-year old.
I know that I'm young. I know that I can be naive at times. And I know that I've said those three words to a lot of other guys before. But this time I mean it.
I've never felt this way before. And people who know me know that this is real. I never talked about my ex-boyfriends the way I talk about Josh. I've never felt so comfortable, so loved, so myself than I do with Josh. I love him.
And next Wednesday, the 8th, will be our one month anniversary.
Damn it. I don't know what to get him. And I'm broke.
Maybe I'll print up a coupon good for One Hour of Erica-Love.
